


house of wolves

by UnrememberedSkies



Series: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea [6]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Angst, Ben Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Ben Hargreeves is going through some stuff, Codependency, Dark Ben Hargreeves, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Handling problems the Hargreeves way, Klaus Hargreeves Needs A Hug, Monsters, Protective Ben Hargreeves, Protective Siblings, Recovery, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:00:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnrememberedSkies/pseuds/UnrememberedSkies
Summary: This is a pointless exercise, he thinks bitterly. No amount of fresh air or changes in scenery can fix the fact that there is something fundamentally broken in him. The Academy may be full of ghosts and monsters and trauma, but so is he. He belongs there as sure as any of Reginald’s dusty old artefacts do. He doesn’t belong in this place of light and tranquillity.The siblings decide to get out of the Academy in an attempt to escape the oppressive memories there. Time spent away is supposed help them heal as a family, but in reality, Klaus finds himself caught in the middle of the widening rift between Ben and his other siblings.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves & Klaus Hargreeves, The Hargreeves Family
Series: Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1479443
Comments: 50
Kudos: 259





	house of wolves

**Author's Note:**

> Look who's back! As always, you can find me on good old [Tumblr](https://unrememberedskies.tumblr.com/). Title is from the MCR song of the same name.

_Klaus wakes up, and stares at the grey sky until his eyes hurt. He doesn’t want to move; he just wants to lie here until he disappears. There’s no pain in this place. That’s something, at least. And once more, he feels strangely calm. The trauma of death is muted here, like everything else. Intellectually he remembers the hungry glint in the Horror-in-Ben’s black eyes, the tentacles as they emerged from his stomach, crowding Klaus, curling round him, and tearing him apart. He remembers twisting skin and tearing ligaments and bones crushing. He remembers being completely aware until he wasn’t._

_But it’s all just a memory, distant, although it must have happened only minutes ago._

_Klaus sits up. This time he has awoken on the grassy verge of a wide river. He leans back on his hands and looks across to the other side. It’s misty, which is strange. The last time he’d been here the weather had been so temperate as to be unnoticeable. The mist stays on the other side of the river, like there is an invisible wall preventing it from crossing the water._

_There is movement within it, Klaus realises, leaning forward. He frowns as he tries to make out the shapes as they drift through the mist. There is a sudden, strange longing in his chest._

_He blinks rapidly, trying to focus his vision. He makes out the shape of a man, in a helmet and combat gear, and his heartrate quickens. He would recognise that shape anywhere._

_“Dave,” he says, and his voice is a hushed whisper. He scrambles to his feet, searching the mist again, trying to find his soldier. “Dave,” he calls, although he sounds hoarse, like he is incapable of shouting._

_He has to cross that river._

* * *

It’s strange, but not entirely unwelcome, to be taken care of. Vanya brings him cups of tea and they sit together at the table, sipping delicately at china teacups, like ladies in an English garden. Diego brings him gifts, like a magpie feathering its nest – knitting patterns, boxes of donuts, every scent of bubble bath Klaus could dream of.

Luther and Five are working on his room, plastic cartons with handwritten labels line the wall, as they experiment with different chemical combinations to try and clean the monster blood from his walls. The sound of their companionable bickering echoes down the hallways.

Allison approaches him where he sits curled up on a window ledge, looking down at the street below. She carries a bundle of clothes, blacks and neons. “Here,” she says, holding the bundle out to him. He takes it gingerly. “Don’t get used to it. I’m not your new mom.” His clothes smell like washing powder. He leans into them and breathes in the clean scent. He looks up at her, curious. She gives him a soft smile. “Diego’s clothes don’t suit you. You don’t look like yourself.”

She reaches out, rubs her thumb along his cheekbone, wiping away smudged eyeliner. Her touch lingers, thumb stroking his cheek absent-mindedly. He covers her hand with his, holds it to his face for a second, before pulling it down, so he can hold her hand. “Thank you,” he says.

She smiles again, soft and genuine. “If you ever need to talk,” she says. “I’m here.”

“I know,” he says. And he does. But that doesn’t mean he will take her up on that offer. He suspects Allison knows this, from the look of sadness in her eyes. He hates to disappoint her, but there is really nothing to say.

Eventually, she drops his hand, takes a deep steadying breath. “I miss your tight pants,” she says, before she turns and walks away from him, down the hallway.

“Pervert,” he calls after her, and she flashes him a grin, before disappearing around the corner. Klaus hugs his clothes to his chest, and closes his eyes.

When he opens them again, Ben is there, leaning against the opposite wall with his hands in his pockets. Klaus lowers the bundle to his lap. Ben eyes it contemplatively.

“Good,” he says, with an approving nod. “Diego’s clothes do nothing for you.”

Klaus stands. “You know, I’m feeling very objectified right now.”

Ben smirks, and falls into step with Klaus as they head towards the spare room. Klaus dumps the pile on the end of his bed, and shimmies out of Diego’s sweatpants before tugging on his beloved leather lace-ups. “God, I’ve missed these. They’re like a second skin.”

Ben lounges back against the pillows, steepling his fingers as he looks up at the ceiling. “I was thinking we should go somewhere.”

Klaus glances across at him as he sifts through the t-shirts and tank tops in the pile. “Oh? Like the library? Or the museum?”

Ben shoots him an amused look. “Actually, I was thinking somewhere further afield.”

Klaus freezes midway through pulling on a stripy tank top, before slowly pulling it down over his midriff. His hands clench and unclench nervously. He busies himself shuffling the clothes back into something of an order, mostly so Ben can’t see his hands shake. “Like where?” he asks carefully, not making eye contact.

“Anywhere we want,” Ben says. “We always talked about travelling.”

That had been when Klaus had spent every night stuffing himself so full of drugs that he forgot who he was, when he’d sat in an alleyway, tugging his coat closer about himself against the cold, when the world seemed so very big and so very cruel, and dreams of blue skies and white beaches were a nice little fantasy.

Now Klaus’s world has shrunk to the Academy walls, he is sober and uncertain, and the world outside is still so very big and so very cruel. Only now, Klaus feels too fragile for it, like a strong breeze would blow him away. In the house there are monsters, but outside, is the rest of humanity, in their billions, alive and so very unpredictable.

“We still don’t have any money,” he says, choosing not to voice any of his fears. “Nothing’s changed.”

“I disagree,” Ben says, rolling over on his side. “You’re sober and I’m corporeal. I think a lot has changed.” Klaus can feel Ben’s eyes on him as he goes to open one of the drawers and place the clothes inside. He’s waiting for a better excuse, Klaus can tell.

“It’s just not a good time,” Klaus says with a sigh, closing the drawer and straightening up.

“Why? Because you’re finally getting the attention you’ve always craved?”

Klaus flinches, and takes a steadying breath before looking across at Ben. His brother is watching him with intense dark eyes. _He’s being cruel because he thinks I’m rejecting him_ , Klaus realises suddenly.

He goes over to the bed and perches on the edge. He can feel the tension radiating from Ben and feels guilty for putting it there. “Maybe we can take a short trip, to start off with,” he suggests, nudging Ben’s knee, still reeling at the fact that he can touch him at any time now. “Somewhere peaceful,” he adds quickly, in case Ben suggests a city break. “I’m-” He swallows. Ben’s expression hasn’t changed. “I’m not feeling up to dealing with people at the moment.”

Ben is quiet for a long time, and Klaus twists his hands in his lap. “I’m surprised you feel up to dealing with our siblings, then.”

“They don’t count,” Klaus says, with a wry smile. “None of us are very good at being real people.”

A smile quirks at the corner of Ben’s mouth and Klaus relaxes a little. He smiles back, small and hopeful, and when Ben’s face softens, he takes it as an invitation to lean forward and bury his face in the crook of Ben’s arm. It’s an awkward angle, but it’s dark and safe in the material of Ben’s jacket, and Ben brings his hand up to stroke through Klaus’s hair, before coming to rest on his neck, fingers dancing across his pulse point.

Being able to touch Ben now makes up for everything else. Klaus is scarred, physically and mentally, by everything that has happened in the last few weeks, but when he buries his face into the crook of Ben’s elbow, or his neck, or brushes Ben’s knee with his, he feels whole again. Ben grounds him in reality in a way that nothing else does any longer. The feeling is as intoxicating as any drug.

Klaus stays tucked into Ben’s side until his heartrate slows, and when he turns to look up at Ben, his brother is lost in his own thoughts, eyes hooded and glazed.

* * *

Diego holds his yarn, whilst Klaus unpicks the last few rows. He is strangely patient with Klaus and his knitting, sitting quietly whilst Klaus grumbles to himself and drops stitches and generally makes a mess of things.

“What are you making, anyway?”

“It’s supposed to be a jumper,” Klaus mutters, not looking up from his work.

Diego, thankfully, does not comment on the fact that the lumpy creation in Klaus’s hands could not look further from a jumper if it tried.

“Didn’t think yellow was your colour.”

“Oh, it’s not.” Klaus looks up, grinning wickedly. He holds the knitting out, pressing it against Diego’s chest. “It would look lovely on you, though.”

Diego raises his eyebrows, then laughs wryly. “Tell you what, if you finish it, I’ll wear it.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” Klaus returns his gaze to the knitting, contemplating his next words. “I might have to send it to you in the post, though.”

“What do you mean?” There’s a sharpness to Diego’s voice that wasn’t there before.

Klaus shrugs, knowing full well it will wind Diego up. Sure enough, there’s a hand on his arm, Diego leans in. “Klaus. What do you mean?”

Klaus’s hands still, although he doesn’t look up at Diego. “Ben wants to go somewhere, just the two of us.”

“Does he.” Diego’s voice is tight, and Klaus sneaks a look up at him from underneath his lashes. Diego’s jaw is set but his mouth twitches in the way it does when he is unhappy about something. “And is that what you want?”

Klaus considers this. “I don’t know.” He puts the knitting down and sighs heavily. “I guess it would be nice to get out of the house.”

Diego’s expression suddenly softens, and he nods. “Yeah. You might be right about that. No amount of redecorating can hide all the shit that’s gone down in this place.” Klaus can feel Diego’s gaze lingering on him. “Does it have to be just the two of you, though?”

Klaus presses his lips together and says nothing. Diego barrels on, cheeks pinking, but maintaining furious eye contact like he’s challenging Klaus to disagree with him. “I mean, we lost you, and we’ve just got you back. I don’t think any of us… _I’m_ not willing to let go of you so soon.”

Klaus looks at him helplessly, not knowing what to do with such an open admission of caring. He wants to give Diego an answer, make him a promise, but the words dry up in his mouth. Watching his face, Diego gives a small nod and lowers his gaze.

Klaus thinks that’s the end of it, when Diego speaks again. “You’d tell me, right? If you were- were worried, or scared for any reason?”

Klaus smiles. “Of course I would.”

Diego nods, and gives a tentative smile back. “Good.”

* * *

When Allison calls a family meeting the next day, Klaus has a pretty good idea what it’s about. Diego has always been solitary and private, kept himself to himself, and not meddled in other people’s business, and Klaus has always liked that about him. But apparently, now, if it concerns Klaus, Diego can’t stop himself from blabbing to Allison and Luther at the first opportunity.

Allison wants them all to go away together, get out of the house, get some fresh air. Klaus can feel Ben’s eyes burning into the back of his neck, but Klaus carefully avoids looking at him.

“I actually have a lake house, upstate,” Allison says.

“Of course you do,” Diego mutters.

Allison shoots him an annoyed look. She addresses the room again, but her gaze keeps slipping back over to Klaus. “I think it’ll do us all some good. It’s not healthy for us all to be locked up here together.”

“So you want us to be locked up together somewhere else?” Ben asks, and Vanya expels a little huff of laughter through her nose.

Klaus watches Allison force back a snappy retort. “No,” she says, with a forced calmness. “I think spending time together as a family somewhere without the… traumatic memories would be beneficial, and give us some perspective.”

Klaus glances at Five, who has been uncharacteristically silent through the whole meeting. He doesn’t look completely appalled by the idea, and even nods along to Allison’s words.

That settles it then. If Allison and Five are in agreement, the rest of them will follow. And sure enough, the others voice their agreement soon after. Allison looks at him. “Klaus? Ben?”

Klaus shrugs, glancing briefly back at Ben. “I’m up for it if Ben is.”

“And I go where Klaus goes,” Ben says, and Klaus wonders if he’s imagining the tinge of resentment in his voice.

Allison frowns, glancing between the two of them. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” Klaus answers, rolling his eyes.

As the family meeting draws to a close, and they all go their separate ways, Ben snags Klaus’s elbow. “That wasn’t exactly what I had in mind,” he says in a low voice.

“I know,” Klaus says, throwing him a sympathetic look. “But I can’t leave them. Not now. Not yet.”

* * *

_Klaus weighs up his options. The river is wide and deep, and he is not the strongest swimmer. Although, he does wonder if the limitations of his physical body apply when his physical body isn’t actually here. His body is lying mutilated in a spare room of the Academy, Klaus realises distantly. The thought doesn’t upset him as much as he thinks it should._

_The other problem is, there are probably rules. If this is the river Styx, which Klaus vaguely remembers from his Greek studies, it’s probably not possible to simply swim across. He scans up and down the river for a boatman, but perhaps unsurprisingly, there is none._

_He looks down at the water. Ah well, nothing ventured, nothing gained. He puts a foot in the water, and he feels strange, freezing cold and boiling hot at the same time. He shouldn’t be doing this; he knows he shouldn’t. But that has never stopped him before. He steps in with his other foot, until he standing with the water up to his shins._

_Movement beneath the surface catches his eye. The water, which before had only reflected the grey light of the sky, seems to darken with swift-moving shadows. He suddenly feels very vulnerable with his feet submerged. Childhood fears of something unseen grabbing his ankles return in full force._

_He backs up, stepping back onto dry land._

_“That wouldn’t have worked anyway,” says a voice behind him._

* * *

Allison’s lake house is like nothing Klaus has ever seen outside of the movies. It’s a large, white-painted wooden structure, tucked between lake and woodland, completely hidden from view of the road. The steps coming down from it lead to a private stony beach and jetty and the blue green water of the lake laps up against the shore in a gentle rhythm.

As Allison unlocks the front door, they all trail in after her, open-mouthed. Inside, it is light and airy, with exposed wooden beams and a stone-clad fireplace, and white furniture and shiny wooden floors.

“Holy shit,” Klaus breathes, and there is a murmur of agreement from the rest of his siblings. They disperse to explore, eyeing everything but not touching, like they’re in a museum. Klaus wonders at how somewhere could be so unlike the Academy.

The bedroom he chooses has a sloping ceiling, and doors leading out to the shared balcony. He sits down on the bed and lies back, running his hands over the soft, cool material of the pale grey duvet. Everything in here is white or pale grey.

“I’d better try not to bleed all over this room,” Klaus says with a laugh. Ben doesn’t look amused, and Klaus props himself up on his elbows. He watches Ben for a moment, stood at the glass doors, looking out at the lake. “It was a joke.”

Ben glances at him over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised. “You always did have a morbid sense of humour.”

Klaus laughs and lies back, staring at the ceiling. “That’s me, baby. If you can’t joke about your own horrific death, what can you do?”

Ben comes to sit down next to him, the mattress dipping beneath his weight, something Klaus thinks he will never get used to. “And how do our siblings like this particular brand of humour?”

Klaus fidgets, especially when Ben leans over him to make eye contact. “They’d freak out,” he says finally.

“And you think I won’t?”

Ben’s gaze is piercing, and Klaus feels a rush of rebelliousness. “You didn’t seem all that cut up about it when I came back,” he says petulantly.

He doesn’t know why he says it, he’s been trying not to let it bother him. And God knows, he doesn’t _want_ Ben to be wracked with guilt over what Klaus asked the Horror to do, but… it would be nice if Ben showed a little remorse.

It’s selfish and petty and Klaus hates himself for thinking it. Why should Ben feel bad about a decision Klaus made? But Klaus _is_ selfish and petty, he never pretended to be anything otherwise. He is afraid and confused and maybe regrets what he did, and he wants Ben to feel some of that too, let Klaus know that he is not alone.

Ben has gone very still, and Klaus suddenly feels trapped lying on the bed, looking up at him. He swallows convulsively. “I didn’t mean that,” he says quietly, reaching up to put a hand on Ben’s cheek, but Ben moves his head out of the way. He grabs Klaus’s wrist, holding it in such a firm grasp that Klaus thinks he might snap the bone. He can feel his own pulse thudding against Ben’s palm.

Then, suddenly, Ben drops his wrist like it’s a hot coal. He stands up. “Don’t tell me how I feel or don’t feel,” he says, voice icy.

Klaus sits up and watches helplessly as Ben walks towards the glass doors. “Ben-” he starts to say, just as Ben vanishes.

There’s a thickness in his throat as Klaus slowly crawls beneath the covers, drawing them up over his head, enveloping him in darkness.

This is a pointless exercise, he thinks bitterly. No amount of fresh air or changes in scenery can fix the fact that there is something fundamentally broken in him. The Academy may be full of ghosts and monsters and trauma, but so is he. He belongs there as sure as any of Reginald’s dusty old artefacts do. He doesn’t belong in this place of light and tranquillity.

He falls into a restless sleep, dreams that he is stood on the stony beach, calling out to his siblings who are out in the middle of the lake, on a boat. They are not so far away, but they don’t seem to hear him, even as he shouts himself hoarse. Someone calls his name, and for a moment he thinks they have finally heard him, but when he looks up, the boat is gone, and he is alone.

“Klaus!”

He sits up quickly, looking around in bewilderment, for a moment forgetting where he is. It’s gone dark outside, and Klaus can see the moon through the window, peeping through the trees. His eyes adjust to the darkness and he spots Luther’s hulking figure in the doorway.

“Sorry,” Luther says, hovering uncertainly. “I was going to let you sleep but I thought you might be hungry. Diego’s making grilled cheese.”

Klaus blinks at him, glances around the room for Ben, but he is still absent. He returns his attention to Luther, swallowing. “Um, yeah. I could eat.”

“Are you okay?”

Klaus pulls the covers off, feeling suddenly overheated. “Yeah,” he says, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Just tired from the car ride.” He rubs his hands over his face, taking a deep breath. “I’ll meet you down there, okay?”

Luther looks like he wants to protest, but he nods. “Okay.”

He leaves and Klaus allows himself to take in a shuddering breath. He gets up and pads across the landing to the bathroom. He eyes himself in the mirror. He looks tired and pale; his complexion hasn’t been right since he came back. He splashes water on his face, and rubs under his eyes to neaten up the smudged eye makeup.

He looks almost as bad as he did at the height of his addiction, all hollow eyes and gaunt cheekbones, sallow skin and a weariness in his eyes. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Sobriety was supposed to make him look and feel better. There was supposed to be some payoff for the pain and hard work of getting sober. He glances around the bathroom, wondering if anyone has ever died in Allison’s beautiful holiday home. At least the ghosts are making themselves scarce at the moment. Klaus doesn’t linger on the thought, a big believer in not looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Dragging his eyes away from his own face, Klaus makes his way down the stairs, following the sound of his siblings’ chatter and laughter. He wonders if Ben is down there with them. He doubts it.

He’s not, but the others do look genuinely pleased to see him, which is nice. “Hey there, Sleeping Beauty,” Allison teases, sliding an arm around his waist.

Klaus smiles, and leans into her hold. “Looking this good takes work, you know.” It’s a pitiful joke, no one can miss the fact that he looks terrible. But they laugh anyway.

“Okay, but with how long you’ve been asleep you should be looking like Salma Hayek,” Diego throws over his shoulder before flipping the sandwich he’s making.

“Salma Hayek _wishes_ she looked like me,” Klaus replies, sitting down at one of the stools by the breakfast bar.

Diego laughs, and Klaus realises with a shock that he sounds _happy_. Maybe getting out of the Academy is long overdue for the others. “You got a plate, Klaus?”

“Hey,” Five pipes up. “How come he gets the first one? He was last in!”

“Because I’m the chef, and what I say goes,” Diego says with a smirk. Vanya hands him a plate and he slides the sandwich onto it. It’s cooked to perfection: golden brown, with cheese oozing out the sides. The rest of them watch hungrily as Diego cuts it in half before handing it to Klaus.

Klaus swallows. It looks a lot. His appetite has never been the best, and he knows he should eat, but food has always made him more nauseous when he has other things on his mind. “Five can have the first one, it’s fine,” he says.

“No,” Diego says firmly. “Don’t let him bully you.”

Klaus looks at Five, across the table. “At least have half?” He tries not to beg.

“With pleasure,” Five says, snatching up another plate and taking half of Klaus’s sandwich. He bites into it like a starving man. Klaus nibbles on the corner of his own.

They eat grilled cheese, and Five makes them cocktails (virgin, for Klaus). Luther sets up his portable record player and they talk and laugh to a soundtrack of eighties pop.

Klaus is going to get a glass of water when there’s a gentle tug on his sleeve. He turns to Vanya. “Where’s Ben?” she asks, the first of all of them to note his absence.

Klaus blinks, put on the spot. “Oh, you know,” he says with false airiness, “he’s around. Somewhere.”

Vanya narrows her eyes slightly like she sees right through him. “Everything okay between you two?”

“Of course it is!” Klaus tries to drink his water too quickly and chokes, water dribbling down his chin. He wipes at his face with the back of his hand. “We’re not joined at the hip, you know.”

Vanya tilts her head, looking thoughtful. “So he can go places separate from you? Still manifested?”

“I, um…” Klaus trails off, scratching at his arm distractedly. “I don’t know, to be honest. Maybe? We haven’t really tested the limits of it. Well, I haven’t anyway.”

He’s babbling, he knows he is, but he can’t stop. Thankfully, Luther calls them across for a game of poker. Vanya looks inordinately please at the prospect, and shoots Klaus a smile before hurrying over.

Klaus drinks the rest of the water. “I’m, uh, gonna sit this one out, guys. I have a crappy poker face.”

“You sure?” Luther asks, pausing in his dealing.

“Yeah,” Klaus says. “I thinking I’m gonna take a walk, get some fresh air.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, then Diego speaks. “Do you want one of us to come with you?”

Klaus gives a laugh with very little humour in it. “No. Thank you. I’m perfectly capable of taking a walk without getting into trouble.” That may not be entirely true, but he’s damned if he’s going to let them treat him like a child. He lived on the streets for thirteen years; he’s more than capable of looking after himself.

None of them look particularly happy at the prospect, but Klaus gives them a breezy wave. “Have a good game, guys, Vanya’s gonna wipe the floor with you.”

He dives out of the front door before they can say anything else to him.

It’s pleasant outside, the evenings are getting warmer, and the breeze that comes off the lake is cool but refreshing. He picks his way down the steps, avoiding any sharp-looking stones with his bare feet. Up ahead, the silver moonlight is reflecting off the lake. It is ethereally beautiful. It doesn’t look real.

He steps off the steps and onto the grass, which is a little wet with evening dew. He walks along the grass, through the trees until he comes to the stony beach. The water laps up gently against the shore, and he watches it for a while, transfixed.

When he looks up, he spots a familiar figure, and heart unclenches a little. Ben is stood ankle deep in the water, black trousers rolled up to his shins. His face is tilted upwards, towards the light of the moon, as though he can feel its rays like the sun on his face. His eyes are closed, and he seems completely enraptured, completely unaware.

He is preternaturally beautiful, bathed in silver moonlight. The angles of his face direct light and shadow, and he is every bit as ethereal as the moon on the water as he stands in peaceful stillness. There is something not quite human about him, something laid stark by the night.

Klaus crosses the beach and steps into the water, not bothering to roll up his tight leather pants. He comes to a halt next to Ben, and they stand shoulder to shoulder. Ben says nothing, doesn’t acknowledge him, and Klaus wonders if he’s still mad at him.

“I can feel…” Ben says, eyes still closed, “the stones beneath my feet, digging into my soles. The water, it’s… chilly, numbing my toes a little.” Klaus looks down and sees Ben’s toes clenching and unclenching beneath the clear water. When he looks up, Ben is looking at him. “I’d forgotten,” Ben says, “what it felt like.”

Klaus stays quiet, watching him silently.

“You know what I want to do, right now?”

“What?” Klaus asks softly.

“Cry.” Klaus must look stricken, because Ben quickly elaborates. “Not because I’m sad. But because I can _feel_. I’m part of this world, not just an observer, for the first time in years. And that deserves some outpouring of emotion. But I can’t.” He spits the last bit, looking frustrated. “I can’t cry. Apparently functioning tear ducts are reserved only for the living.”

Feeling helpless, Klaus wraps his arms around Ben’s waist, resting his head against his shoulder. Some of the tension in Ben’s frame dissipates at Klaus’s touch.

“And what bothers me most is that I spent all my living years hiding my emotions, because I was told that they were _weak_ and that not having emotions was _strong._ ” Ben’s face is twisted in anger, and Klaus wants him to feel peaceful again.

“Dad used to hate that I cried all the time,” he says, remembering canings that would only make him cry harder.

“I know,” Ben says. “I should have been more like you.”

It isn’t a sentiment Klaus hears very often. He frowns into Ben’s shoulder, a silent question.

“I should have cried every time I had the urge to when I was alive because now I can’t. I can’t taste, I can’t cry. Who decides what the dead can and can’t do, anyway?”

“Probably that brat on the bicycle,” Klaus mutters.

Ben gives a huff of laughter. “That figures. One more thing to hate her for.”

Klaus smiles.

“I was devastated,” Ben says, abruptly.

Klaus lifts his head a fraction. “What?”

Ben swallows, and he shifts, tension back in his frame. “I stand by what I said. It worked, and we are both more powerful as a result. I regret… causing you pain, but I think the end justified the means.”

Klaus straightens, his hands drop from around Ben’s waist, but he reaches up to brush against his sleeve with his fingers, unable to sever the connection entirely. He stares at Ben, uncertain. Ben gives an irritable exhale through his nose. “I know you think that makes me a monster. But things aren’t black and white, Klaus, I thought you of all people would understand that.”

Klaus rubs at his neck. “I don’t- I don’t think you’re a monster. I just-” He takes a deep breath. “You said you were devastated?”

“I was,” Ben says nodding. “I never wanted to see you like that again. It killed me to cause you pain, it kills me still.”

Klaus’s hands are shaking as he fiddles with the sleeve of Ben’s jacket. “But you’d do it again.” His voice is barely more than a whisper.

Ben turns to him, for the first time looking bewildered. “It was your idea, Klaus.”

“I know!” Klaus’s voice is plaintive. “I know.” He presses his forehead against Ben’s shoulder and shudders. “I’m being weak and selfish and stupid. I’m sorry.”

Ben’s hand slowly comes up, rests on the back of his neck, stroking his nape with his thumb. “You’re not.” He sighs. “You’re just human. It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry,” Klaus whispers.

Ben sighs again, moves away from Klaus and walks up the beach, boots materialising on his feet as he goes. Klaus follows him like a puppy, his own feet wet and bare, soaked leather clinging to his ankles.

“They’re watching us.”

Klaus head spins at the non-sequitur. He glances around, wondering if the Eldritch spy had followed them from the Academy. The skin on the back of his neck prickles. “Who are? The Eldritch?”

Ben gives a humourless smile and raises his eyes upward. “Our siblings.”

Klaus glances up towards the lights from the house. He isn’t sure how Ben knows; he can’t see anyone watching them. “They’re probably wondering where we’ve got to.”

“Or what I’m doing to you.”

Klaus feels like screaming in frustration. “Can you blame them?” he asks, gesturing wildly. “You’ve been deliberately antagonistic towards them! You’ve been sulking and glaring and acting really suspicious. How do you expect them to react?”

“Have you told them?”

Klaus blinks. “Told them what?”

“That it was your idea.”

Klaus swallows, looks away. “I haven’t really spoken about it with anyone.”

Ben’s face is hard. “So they have made their own conclusions of what happened based on what they saw when they entered that room. And you didn’t think to correct them.”

Klaus shrinks into himself. “I’ll tell them, Ben, please don’t-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Ben says, shaking his head. “Let them fear me. It’s all anyone’s ever done, anyway.”

Klaus steps closer to him. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Ben gives him a fond look, his face suddenly softening, and Klaus feels himself drawn towards him like a flower to the sun. “Yes, you are,” he says. Klaus opens his mouth to protest, but Ben interrupts him again. “But it’s okay. Because you love me as well.”

Klaus reaches towards him. “ _They_ love you.”

Ben gives a quiet laugh like Klaus is a child who has said something silly and amusing. “Let’s go back to the house.” He glances at Klaus’s bare feet and soaked hems. “You’re going to catch a cold.”

He starts to walk across the grass towards the steps. Klaus follows, watching the back of his head and wishing, not for the first time, that he knew what was going on inside.

* * *

_He turns to her with a tired sigh. “I didn’t think it would work, to be honest.”_

_“And yet you did it anyway.” She looks genuinely baffled, and vaguely irritated. Klaus is used to that look._

_“Just let me cross.”_

_“No.”_

_Klaus squeezes his eyes shut, forcing everything back. “Please.”_

_“Do you want to know why I won’t let you cross?” He opens his eyes and sees her watching him with dark eyes. She doesn’t seem angry, or even mocking. There is something on her young face that Klaus can’t read, and it scares him a little._

_He nods._

_“Look in the water,” she says, pointing._

_Klaus obeys, turning back to look into the water, instead of across it. His eyes follow the movements, staring into the shadows until they start to take form._

_There is something terrible beneath the surface of the water. Something with claws and teeth and ancient, liquid eyes. It’s hungry and desperate to break through, skimming so close to the surface of the water but not quite breaking through._

_Klaus looks at the girl. “They’re here,” he says, softly._

_“Not quite,” she replies. “The walls between realms are stronger than they look.” She looks at him, narrow-eyed. “But their hunger for you is also strong.”_

_Klaus’s eyes widen. “I’m bringing them here.”_

_“The more time you spend here, the weaker those walls become. This is a realm of order and certainty. I will not tolerate you bringing chaos and uncertainty to it.”_

_Realisation settles over Klaus like a shroud. He bows his head under the pressure. “But where am I supposed to go?” he asks, quietly, brokenly._

_She looks at him, face devoid of emotion. “I don’t care.”_

* * *

Klaus wakes to warm sunshine streaming through the balcony doors. He opens his eyes and stares up at the white ceiling and basks in the warmth. His aching limbs feel soothed, his racing mind feels peaceful. He thinks that maybe he could stay here forever.

Eventually, his full bladder forces him up, and as he comes back out onto the landing, he hears the sound of movement downstairs, the clink of plates and cups, low voices humming. The smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafts up from the kitchen.

Klaus stands there and wonders how the world is allowed to be so lovely. He grips the bannister so hard his knuckles turn white. He takes in a shaky breath and leans over the bannister, his eyes closed.

He is beginning to drift when he hears his name being called. The ghosts. He hasn’t seen any ghost, aside from Ben, since he came back from the dead. They must have finally found him.

There’s a large hand on his back and Klaus jumps so violently he thinks he might pitch headfirst over the bannister and onto the wooden floor below.

“Shit, Klaus, I’m sorry.” The hand is removed, and it filters through Klaus’s crowded consciousness that the ghosts don’t normally apologise, or speak with such a familiar voice.

He turns his head slightly, still afraid of what he might see, and heaves a sigh of relief as Luther comes into view. He shakes his head trying to clear it. “Don’t apologise,” he says tiredly. “It’s my fault.”

“What happened?” Luther asks, moving cautiously to stand beside Klaus, gloved hands curling around the bannister, like they’re looking out from the deck of a ship at the wide endless ocean.

“I thought you were a ghost.”

Luther sucks in a breath. “Are- are there ghosts here? Are they bothering you?”

Klaus shakes his head. “No. I’ve not seen a single ghost since I came back.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Luther doesn’t really understand the ghosts, it’s hard to explain them to someone whose only experience with ghosts is Ben, who is unlike any other ghost. Ben is still himself; he is not lost to the darkness and emptiness of death, he feels things other than pain and anguish, he does not see Klaus as the gateway back to life.

Klaus smiles. “It _is_ good. It’s just… I dunno. I’m away from the monsters and the ghosts but… apparently I can’t handle the sun shining and the smell of coffee and everything being so nice either.”

“It’s too much,” Luther says. “It doesn’t feel like it’s meant for us.”

Klaus looks at him and sees a heaviness on Luther’s brow that makes him think that maybe Luther understands him better than he gave him credit for. He swallows, and nods. “Yeah.” He gives a bitter laugh. “You can take the kids out of the Umbrella Academy but you can’t take the Umbrella Academy out of the kids, am I right?”

Luther gives him an uncertain smile, before chuckling wryly. “I’m sure someone will burn the toast or spill the coffee, and there’s bound to be arguments over who gets the last croissant. But we’re all together, and that’s what’s important.”

Klaus wonders if Luther has been talking to Diego. “Yeah,” Klaus says. He changes the subject quickly. “Want to see if there’s anything left for us late risers?”

Luther steps back and gestures in a ‘you first’ motion, and the two of them make their way downstairs.

They are the last two up; everyone else looks a lot fresher. Five and Vanya are watching morning television and sharing a plate piled high with buttered toast. Allison and Diego are sat at the breakfast bar, each nursing cups of coffee and chatting animatedly together. Most surprisingly, Ben is sat on a chair by the window, reading.

He looks up when Klaus and Luther enter the room, giving Klaus the once over. His eyes are questioning, and Klaus gives the slightest of nods. Ben nods in return, satisfied, and returns to his book. Klaus feels a little rush of relief, knowing that Ben isn’t mad at him.

Luther’s cheery “Morning!” is met with a murmur of “Good morning”s in response, and a sarcastic “Is it still morning?” from Diego. Allison elbows him, before directing them both to the coffee jug.

Klaus sits on the corner of the sofa and sips on coffee that is more sugar than anything else, and tears pieces from his croissant, letting the warm, buttery pastry melt in his mouth. From here, he can see the sunlight glinting off the lake, colouring it a beautiful aqua blue. It looks a world away from the serene silver lake of last night.

“I think it might actually be warm enough to swim today,” Allison says, and Klaus feels his heart sink, even as Diego and Vanya brighten at the idea. He’s not the only one who doesn’t look thrilled, he can’t help but notice. Five’s frown deepens a little and Luther shifts in the stool uncomfortably. Ben doesn’t react, just turns the page of his book.

An hour later – because Diego says they shouldn’t swim so soon after eating – they are down at the beach, pinning blankets and towels under rocks on the grass to stop them blowing away. Allison, Diego, and Vanya have already stripped off down to their swimming things, and are edging into the chilly water of the lake.

Ben is a little way down, propped up against a big rock with his book, thoroughly engrossed. Klaus would be concerned if Ben hadn’t always much preferred reading to any kind of physical activity. Luther is standing on the shore, smiling and shouting out to the others, his sweater and overcoat still firmly on. And Five is stood a little further up the beach, his hands in his pockets, looking stiff and uncomfortable.

Klaus sits on one of the towels, knees pressed up to his chest.

“Klaus!” Diego yells from the lake. He’s in up to his chest now. “You not coming in?”

“Maybe later,” Klaus calls back, wrapping his hands around his legs and pulling them in tighter. He spots Five looking at him, and the next thing he knows, his brother is coming over to him.

“I thought this would be your sort of thing,” Five says, as he sits down next to him. He mimics Klaus’s position, drawing his knees up to his chest.

“Yeah,” Klaus says with a sigh. “It is.”

Five looks at him curiously. “So why are you not going in? They clearly want you there.”

Klaus shrugs evasively. “They want you there, too. Why aren’t you swimming?”

“I don’t care for it,” Five says immediately. A little too quickly.

Klaus narrows his eyes at him, staring until Five’s cheeks pink. “Liar,” Klaus says.

Five glares to cover his embarrassment. “Is it so hard to believe that I don’t want to splash around in the water like- like some dopey canine?”

“Yes,” Klaus says, with confidence. “I remember when Dad had us training in water. Only Diego was faster than you. You used to love swimming.”

“People change.”

Klaus eyes him thoughtfully. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”

Five looks disgruntled, but if Klaus knows anything about Five, it is that he is endlessly curious, and will do anything in the pursuit of knowledge. Sure enough, he sighs in defeat. “I look like a kid,” he says. “I have the body of a thirteen-year-old and I can’t control how people see me. Being in a bathing suit would mean I lose what’s left of my dignity. And I’m not ready for that.”

He scowls at himself, like he’s irritated by his own insecurities.

Klaus looks at him, even as Five determinedly avoids eye contact. “Five, anyone who’s spoken to you for more than ten seconds knows you’re not a child. You are one hundred percent a grumpy old man and we all know that.”

“I didn’t say it was rational,” Five mutters. “I just don’t want you guys to see me like that.”

“You’re the most dignified out of all of us.” Klaus considers. “I mean, not that that’s a hard feat. But you’re definitely the scariest of us. I mean, you’re the last person I’d like to meet in a dark alley. No offence. I mean…”

He trails off as Five finally meets Klaus’s eyes. “You’re such an idiot,” he says, shaking his head, but Klaus thinks he detects an element of fondness.

Klaus grins. “I know,” he says, patting his knee.

They sit in silence and watch their siblings in the water. There is some kind of competition going on, because of course there is. Klaus wonders why either of the girls would bother challenging Diego when he’s always been obnoxiously brilliant in the water, but as he watches, he realises that they’ve teamed up against him. Allison is playing to his competitive instincts by loudly questioning his skills, whilst Vanya sneaks around behind him and grabs his ankles under the water, making him shriek like a little girl.

Klaus is laughing at them when Five speaks again. “So now I’ve shared my deepest insecurities, care to tell me why you’re suddenly a shrinking violet? You’ve always loved showing off your body.”

It was too much to hope that Five had forgotten. Klaus swallows. “Yeah, I did.”

“So, what changed?” Five looks at him, waiting.

Klaus sighs and closes his eyes, then he lifts up his shirt, revealing his stomach to Five. He still has his eyes closed, so he hears the tiny intake of breath Five makes. He knows what he’s seeing – the thick red lines that bisect Klaus’s midriff, like tyre tracks across the flat plane of his stomach. The skin – red, shiny, and puckered – a healing scar, but a hideous reminder of his mutilation.

Five has yet to say anything, so Klaus opens his eyes, afraid to find him transfixed by the ugly spectacle of Klaus’s stomach. But Five isn’t looking at his scars, he’s looking up at Klaus, eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Klaus,” he whispers. Klaus slowly lowers his shirt.

“I know I’m damaged,” Klaus says. “I just don’t to remind everyone of exactly how much.” Tears roll silently down Five’s cheeks, and Klaus looks at him in alarm. “Hey! Hey, it’s no big deal. Honestly.”

“Klaus, I’m sorry,” Five chokes, looking more anguished than Klaus has ever seen him.

“For what?” Klaus asks, shaking his head in bewilderment.

“I pushed you into this.” Five hiccoughs. He is not a dignified crier, clearly not having much experience in it. “I threatened you and made you think the only solution was sacrificing yourself.”

Something clicks into place in Klaus’s mind, Five’s phrasing discernibly different from how the others speak about what happened. “You know,” he says. There is a strange heavy feeling in his stomach. “You know I asked him to do it.”

Five gives another choking sob and nods, wiping at his face with the sleeve of his jacket.

“Did Ben tell you?”

Five sniffs, and nods again, more cautiously this time. He watches Klaus’s face, suddenly wary. “I’m sorry if he wasn’t supposed to tell me, Klaus. It was just after you came back, and tensions were running high and-”

“Have you told the others?”

Five gives a slight shake of the head. “No. I didn’t think it was my place.”

Klaus looks over at Ben. He is still engrossed in his book, but Klaus knows he must be aware of his and Five’s conversation, even if he is giving no indication. He looks away, back to Five. “You didn’t push me into anything,” he says. “It was all me. My decision. That’s why it was so reckless and stupid.”

“It was also brave,” Five says quietly. “But you shouldn’t have had to make that decision alone.”

“Ben was… indisposed at the time.”

“Not just Ben. The rest of us should have been there for you. We still can be. You could let us in, tell us what’s going on with the two of you.”

Klaus is tempted, he truly is. Sometimes it feels like he and Ben go in circles, caught up in a net by these powerful beings who toss them out only to reel them back in, playing with them like their lives are nothing. He and Ben fight against the universe, and increasingly, with each other. Every time they manage a step forward, the universe drags them three steps back.

Klaus is so tired. So tired of the pain and the misery. He’s tired of making decisions and fighting fights he wants no part of. It is so tempting to unload some of the burden, tell Five everything that has happened and let his incredible brain come up with a solution.

But Five and the others are learning to be human, learning to love and support each other instead of competing and trying to bring each other down. Ben… he is becoming something else: colder, more powerful, less human. And Klaus is both and neither. Number Four, always in the middle, never one thing or the other. Never belonging anywhere or to anyone.

He looks at Five and wants to tell him everything. “You wouldn’t understand,” is what he says instead.

“Try me,” Five replies, never one to shy from a challenge.

It’s at that moment that Luther comes over, hovering for a second before Klaus pats the blanket next to him, happy for an excuse to avoid Five’s shrewd gaze. “What’s up, big guy?”

“Allison says there’s a farm shop a little way up from here. I was thinking of walking up there and getting some stuff for a barbecue. Do either of you fancy coming with me?”

Klaus looks at Five. The only sign his brother has been crying is the slight red tinge to his eyes. Not enough for Luther to notice. No one would expect Five to cry so no one would look any closer. “Sure,” Five says. “Could do with stretching my legs.”

Klaus looks back at Luther. “I guess,” he says. “I should warn you, though, I’m not dressed for a hike.”

“We can wait for you to get changed,” Luther says, nodding towards the house.

“It’s okay,” Klaus says, pulling on his Converse. “I don’t have any clothes suitable for hiking in. Let me go get Ben.”

He clambers to his feet and crosses the pebbly beach to where Ben is sitting, shaded by a tree. “Hey,” he says. Ben looks up at him, squinting in the sun. “We’re going to a farm shop up the road to get some food. Wanna come with us?”

Ben looks at him, then down at the book. “It’s just getting to the good bit,” he says.

“Oh. Well, in that case, I don’t need to go,” Klaus says immediately.

Ben shakes his head. “No, if you want to go, you should go.” He looks considering. “This might actually be a good opportunity to test how far we can be apart before I can no longer manifest.”

A cold feeling settles in Klaus’s stomach. “Why?” he says, trying not to sound like a sulky child.

Ben gives him a bemused look. “Aren’t you interested to know?”

“Not really.” Klaus suddenly very much does not want to go on a walk. Not now he knows Ben wants to get away from him.

Ben’s gaze narrows in on him. “I’m not trying to escape you,” Ben says, and Klaus wonders if their connection now means Ben can read his mind, or if Ben really knows him that well. Ben puts his book down and looks up at Klaus. “I just think it a good time to find out our new limits. You want a walk, I want to finish my book. We’ll be fine.” He eyes Klaus, expression softening. “ _You’ll_ be fine.”

“Fine,” Klaus repeats. “But if you suddenly disappear right when you’re about to find out whodunit, you can’t blame me.”

“Deal,” Ben says solemnly, the corner of his mouth twitching.

Klaus smiles, before turning to where Luther and Five are waiting for him. They look at him with varying degrees of expectancy.

“Is Ben not coming?” Luther asks.

“He wants to finish his book,” Klaus says.

“Oh. See you, Ben,” Luther calls across, and Ben raises a hand in response, not looking up from his novel.

Klaus smiles gratefully at Luther for that, and hooks his arm through his, swinging it cheerfully. “You do know that if there’s any big hills you’re going to have to carry me up? I have virtually no leg strength.”

“We’re pretty much sticking to the shoreline, Klaus, there are no big hills,” Five says, wandering ahead with his hands in his pockets, looking up at the trees with a kind of vague interest. He only needs to whistle and it would complete the old man image. Klaus’s heart aches for him.

“I don’t mind carrying you if you want me to,” Luther says, with that good boy sincerity of his.

“See, Five? This is why he’s my favourite.”

Five turns around, smirking as he continues to walk backwards. “You are so easily bought.”

As Klaus is sticking his tongue out at him, Luther leans in slightly, lowering his voice. “This is okay, isn’t it? You’re not going to overexert yourself?”

Klaus looks at him in surprise, then realisation hits him. “You mean because of the whole dying thing?” It’s so easy for the words to just slip off his tongue, because speaking them is not the same as thinking about them. “Oh no, it’s fine. I wasn’t exactly in the peak of health before all that, so I wouldn’t worry too much.”

Luther looks unconvinced, giving him that puppy dog look of his. Up ahead, Five has turned back to facing forwards, although Klaus can tell he’s listening.

“I’m not fragile,” Klaus says, although he feels like he’s about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

“I know,” Luther says immediately. “You’ve just been through a lot, that’s all.”

It’s strange, because Klaus feels like he can describe his whole life as ‘a lot’. He nods, and looks down at the ground, watching his step as they walk along the stony path through the trees.

Luther steers the conversation away from more touchy issues, and Five offers his own sarcastic comments. Klaus falls back into his role as family clown and draws laughter from his brothers with his impressions and exaggerated-for-comedic-effect anecdotes.

When they reach the farm shop, they discover, to Klaus’s delight, that they also have an ice cream counter. It takes very little persuasion for Luther to order them all cones, and five minutes later, they sit at a table outside the shop, sunning themselves and licking at their ice creams.

“How far would you say this place is from the house?” Luther asks, as he devours his own cone in a few bites. Klaus stares at him in horror.

“About one point eight miles,” Five says. “Why?”

Luther shrugs his great shoulders. “I don’t know. Thought maybe we could all come back, it’s nice.”

Five makes a humming noise, and Klaus is just catching the drips of melted ice cream with his tongue when he sees Five looking at him speculatively. “What?”

“Do you know if it’s worked? If Ben is still manifested back at the house, even at this distance?”

Klaus glances over at Luther, who suddenly looks interested as well. He shrugs awkwardly. “I mean, he hasn’t popped up back here to bitch about disappearing, so maybe?”

“So, if you get too far apart, he kind of just… pings back to you, like an elastic?” Luther asks.

Klaus smiles down at his ice cream, imagining Ben’s reaction to be described as a ghostly elastic band. “I don’t know,” he admits. “It’s never really been an issue before. Ben has always just been there. There was no point in him going further away because there was no one else to talk to.”

“But he could?” Five presses. “Even when he wasn’t corporeal? Does he even exist independently of you conjuring him?”

“Of course he does!” Klaus says, staring at Five with wide eyes. “All those years when he was with me… I wasn’t wilfully conjuring him. He was there because- well, because I suppose he wanted to be there.” _For whatever reason._ Klaus had not always been the most pleasant to be around.

He sees Five and Luther look at each other. “So, before you started making him corporeal, you weren’t actively conjuring him?”

Klaus looks between them, bewildered. “I mean, no? I could barely conjure a thought back then, let alone an actual person.”

“It must be some kind of subconscious conjuration, or not even conjuration at all, but the ability to see into another dimension of this world,” Luther says.

“The second one sounds right,” Klaus replies, a little doubtfully.

“But you said the drugs blocked the ghosts out,” Five says, a little impatiently. “How come you could still see Ben even when you were high?”

Klaus blinks rapidly. “I- I don’t know. You’re probably better asking Ben this, he has some thoughts about it, I think.”

“The fact that Ben was visible and able to interact with Klaus, even when Klaus was high and couldn’t see the other ghosts implies that Ben’s presence was not due to Klaus’s power but his own,” Five says, his eyes twitching as his mind works at a million miles an hour.

“Are you saying that Ben has always been able to conjure himself independently of Klaus?” Luther asks. It occurs to Klaus that this might not be the first time they’ve discussed this topic together. He feels something unpleasant settle in his stomach, and the ice cream turns sour in his mouth.

“How are we defining conjuring?” Five asks.

“Oh, who knows? But if you say someone’s name enough, they might just appear.”

Klaus jumps at Ben’s voice, but not as violently as Five and Luther. Five drops the remains of his ice cream, and Luther makes the table lurch as he jerks in surprise.

Klaus looks at Ben, sat on the empty chair at their table, his arms folded. He looks distinctly unimpressed. Klaus resists to the urge to go to him, although he’s glad to finally have an ally at the table.

Five and Luther both look embarrassed, but Five’s tightly closed lips are twitching like he wants to say something else.

“Is this how it works, then?” Ben asks. “You take Klaus somewhere out of my earshot and then grill him about our powers at the first opportunity?”

“We weren’t grilling him,” Five says heatedly. “We were speculating about the newer aspects of your powers, as we would with any of one us.”

“And, as you would with any one of us, you’re doing it behind my back.”

“He’s got a point,” Klaus mutters, and three heads turn to look at him. He shrugs at them. “Has the Vanya incident taught us literally nothing?”

“You’re right,” says Luther, quietly. He turns to Ben. “I’m sorry, Ben.”

Ben blinks, seemingly not expecting an apology. Klaus chances a look at Five, and finds him watching him with an unreadable expression on his face. He must see something in Klaus’s eyes because he turns to Ben. “We were just trying to help,” he says a little stiffly. Which isn’t an apology, but Klaus figures it’s the best they’re going to get from Five.

Ben looks at him coolly. “We all know that the Hargreeves brand of help leaves a lot to be desired.”

There is a tense silence, and Klaus watches Luther dither for a moment before he quietly suggests they get the meat from the store. He and Five go in, leaving Ben and Klaus sitting at the table.

“Did you really come because you heard your name so often?” Klaus asks curiously.

Ben gives a quiet huff of laughter. “No.”

Klaus starts scratching at a split in the wood of the table, still tense in the face of Ben’s strange mood. “Were you here the whole time?”

Ben takes longer to answer this time. “No,” he says finally.

Klaus digs his nail into the wood, wincing as it catches and tears. “Then, why-?”

“I could feel your distress,” Ben says, slapping his hand away from the table irritably. Klaus withdraws and looks at the raw skin beneath the nail. Blood beads up slowly. Klaus squeezes at his thumb, bringing more blood to the surface.

“You don’t have to come running every time I’m upset,” he says, distracted by the bright red on his fingernail.

Ben snatches up his hand and drags it towards him, his eyes dilated and fixated on the beading blood. He’s shaking, a minute tremor that Klaus wouldn’t see if he hadn’t been looking for it. He swipes his finger across Klaus’s broken nail, catching most of the blood, and brings his own finger to his mouth, cleaning up the blood quickly and economically. He closes his eyes and exhales. “Yes, I do.”

Klaus watches as Ben’s tongue darts out to catch any blood that might have got stuck on his lips. “Got to protect your supply,” he says, a little bitterly.

Ben opens his eyes and in an inhumanly fast movement, he has Klaus by the shoulders and half drags him across the table. “No,” he breathes. “Because I spent thirteen years of my life watching you get hurt and upset and being able to do absolutely nothing about it. And now I can. So I will.”

He releases Klaus and sits back in the chair, breathing harshly. Klaus returns to his seat slowly, watching his brother with wide eyes.

“I…” He starts, and trails off, not knowing what to say.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Ben says, and he sounds tired. “In fact, I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

So they sit in silence until Luther and Five emerge from the shop loaded down with paper carrier bags full of fresh meat and salads, and they begin the awkward walk back to the lake house.

* * *

_She pushes Klaus, and he can feel himself falling. That horrible sinking feeling in his stomach as he leaves her realm to return to his – that realm of pain and sorrow and blood._

No, no, NO!

_He achieves something he didn’t manage last time – he manages to pull away right before he crashes through the walls to the realm of the living. He thinks he can see himself, wrapped in a sheet. He thinks he sees Luther and Five at his bedside. He imagines waking up, their exclamations of surprise and joy. He can’t do it. Not when he knows that every moment of joy is balanced out by never-ending and indescribable pain._

_So he wrenches himself away from that realm, and finds himself amongst the stars._

_There is a moment of brilliant, blinding clarity. A feeling of freedom, of bliss. He is formless, shapeless, without body, without the chains of corporeality._

_He could stay like this, forever._

_But, as always, the universe has other plans. He tumbles and finds himself assaulted by memories. The nightmare of his childhood comes back to him as if he is reliving it, he turns around only to find himself confronted by the horrors of the street, he ducks beneath the memory of bruising fists only to find himself reliving torture, war, falling in love and then losing that love, the fiery end of the world, the feeling of a parasite inside him, the excruciating pain as the Horror tore him apart…_

_Walls slam up around Klaus, and there is the deafening clang of a door slammed shut. Everything is quiet, and he can only hear his own breathing. It is a strange sensation, because for a few moments he hadn’t breathed at all. Those moments of incorporeality made him forget what it was like to be in his body, and the sensation comes crashing back unpleasantly._

_He forces his eyes open, and looks around. The mausoleum, of course. Everything comes back to this place. In this tomb, Klaus was forged._

_He waits for the spirits to notice him, waits for them to cry out for his attention, reach towards him, scream out for acknowledgement and salvation._

_The spirits don’t come. Something else does._

_It’s feint at first, a rustling noise that makes the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. He squints through the darkness, searching for what is making the sound. From the other side of the mausoleum comes a _clack_ ing noise, followed by the sound of something scraping against the stone floor. Klaus’s breath catches in his throat and he scrambles back as something large, and most definitely hostile, approaches him._

_His back hits the cold stone of a tomb and the sensation is so familiar that he freezes. He presses himself against the wall as his eyes begin to adjust to the darkness. He makes out long, powerful limbs that end in sharp points, a ribbed body and front pincers like those of a giant praying mantis. Where its mouth should be, it makes an excitable clicking and hissing noise, and Klaus realises it has set its eyes on prey._

_He wants to close his eyes, but finds them fixed open, even as the musty air makes them water. The creature tilts its head slightly, like it’s considering him, and Klaus catches a glimpse of its folded in face, a ridged crevice where its features should be._

_The creature leans in, and Klaus suddenly feels pain in his ankles as the it seizes him with its pincers, dragging him towards it, onto his back._

_The creature crawls over him, trapping his body beneath its hard, pointed limbs. Klaus squeezes his eyes shut, his breath coming in short, gasping pants._

_There is a sharp pain in his neck, and Klaus feels like his blood has been injected with liquid metal – red hot and burning, ready to cool and solidify in his veins._

_It climbs up from his neck and reaches his brain, and he slips into blissful unconsciousness._

* * *

Diego is humming at the barbecue as he flips the burgers. Klaus watches him from his perch on the lawn chair. He looks up as Allison, always a hostess, brings over a jug of pink lemonade.

“Want a top up?” she asks, and Klaus holds out his glass gratefully.

“Need any help?” he asks, as she fills up his glass.

She straightens. “I’ve got Luther making salad and Five slicing rolls. That’s more than enough chaos for one kitchen. You relax.”

He smiles at her, and she glides away to offer more lemonade to Ben and Vanya, who are sat on the edge of the patio, looking out at the lake and talking quietly.

Klaus would kill to know what they are saying, but he’s trying to let Ben have a relationship with his siblings separate from Klaus. And Vanya is the only one that Ben can stand to be around at the moment. Perhaps it’s because she knows what it’s like to be feared for her powers, to have the distrust of her siblings.

Vanya ducks her head and her shoulders shake, and for a moment Klaus thinks she’s crying, then she puts a hand on Ben’s shoulder and Klaus can see her face creased with mirth, and he realises it’s laughter. Ben is laughing too, but his own laughter is much more restrained.

Klaus thinks about what Ben said about always hiding his emotions when he was alive. He’s still hiding, Klaus realises. He’s still afraid that his emotions will be used against him. He doesn’t trust his siblings, just as they don’t trust him. They fear him and he fears them.

The revelation sends him reeling. Ben has always been Klaus’s rock, been the strong one in the face of Klaus’s weakness. He was always there to talk him out of making the wrong decisions, or telling him how to get out of it when Klaus went and made them anyway. Ben was his conscience, his therapist, his protector.

Klaus hadn’t realised that all this time Ben has been as afraid as him. It seems obvious now, and Klaus curses himself for his own self-centredness that he hadn’t realised this sooner. Ben had always been so afraid as a child, downtrodden and miserable. Klaus had always assumed that death had taken away the fear – when the Horror hadn’t been a problem and Ben had already faced death and come out the other side.

Of course that fear hadn’t gone away. Klaus feels foolish for ever thinking it would. Ben hadn’t stopped being afraid, he had simply put his own fear to one side, because he had something else to focus on. Klaus.

Ben had put away his fears, his dreams, his _everything_ to take care of Klaus, to be his shadow because he didn’t have a chance at a life of his own, to be the strong one when Klaus was never able.

The Horror had told Klaus that it was love that drove Ben, and Klaus has no trouble believing it. Despite his reluctance to show any emotion, Ben has demonstrated his love for Klaus time and time again. But there is something else, something that the Horror is feeding on, something that it has recognised and latched onto inside Ben.

Because Ben is kind, and clever, and loving, but he is also bitter and insecure, and so afraid of rejection. Klaus has seen it. He knows Ben’s flaws as well as he knows his own. Ben is bitter and insecure; Klaus is callous and selfish. And they are both so afraid.

He jumps at the feel of a hand on his shoulder, and looks up in bewilderment into Allison’s brown eyes. “Hey,” she says. “You were miles away, then.”

Klaus blinks, straightening up in his chair. “Uh, sorry, just daydreaming.”

Allison grins. “Don’t apologise. I just don’t want you to miss out on the food. Apparently Five and Luther have worked up quite an appetite.”

Klaus looks across at the large picnic table, where Luther and Five have indeed started helping themselves to sliders and salad. He uncurls from the chair at Allison’s nudge, and slowly makes his way over to the table.

He gets there at the same time as Ben and Vanya, and he meets Ben’s eyes as Vanya compliments the spread and sits down, patting the spot next to her for Ben. Klaus takes a couple of sliders and a handful of potato chips, ignoring Allison’s reproach that he should put something green on his plate.

He is chewing on his burger when Luther asks, innocently enough. “Are you not eating, Ben?”

“It’s not much fun when you can’t taste anything,” Ben says, and Klaus spots to exact moment he and the rest of them realise what he’s said. Everyone freezes.

Klaus remembers not so long ago, all of them watching wide-eyed as Ben bit into a peanut butter and marshmallow sandwich and told them it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. The whispered confession later on, when he and Klaus were alone, that he couldn’t taste anything, and had lied only to see the happiness on their faces.

“What?” Diego asks, the first to break the silence.

“I just mean that I’m not hungry at this particular moment,” Ben backtracks, although by the looks on their faces, no one is convinced.

“You can’t taste it?” Five asks, and Klaus remembers his excitement as he jumped to the kitchen to make the sandwich.

Klaus’s eyes fall to Ben’s hands where they rest on the table. He is scratching his thumbnail nervously, a sure sign he is growing increasingly agitated.

“What does it matter?” he asks.

“You told us you could taste it,” Vanya says, and she looks heartbroken. Klaus can see that, but he can also see how it might seem accusatory, if someone was feeling paranoid.

“Well, I guess I lied,” Ben snarls, getting to his feet. Out of the corner of his eye Klaus sees Diego half rise and Luther put a restraining hand on his arm. “This was a mistake.”

“Ben,” Klaus says as Ben pushes his chair aside and leaves the table. “Ben!”

Ben crosses the patio in quick strides, heading down the steps towards the lake. Klaus stands up, ready to follow him. He looks down at the table as he speaks. “He lied,” he says, “so you wouldn’t be upset.” He doesn’t look up to see their reactions, he just ducks away from the table, keeping his head low.

He follows Ben down to the beach, finds him staring at the water, his arms folded and jaw clenched so tightly it must be painful. Klaus stands a little way from him, waiting to be addressed.

“You need to choose,” Ben says, his voice shaking.

Klaus blinks. “What?”

“You need to choose,” Ben repeats, “between me and them.”

Klaus has been expecting this, but the words still make his heart thud faster in his chest. “I can’t do that, Ben.”

“Why not?” Klaus can tell Ben is aiming for angry, but he just sounds plaintive.

“Because I love them,” Klaus says. “And I love you. I can’t choose. I won’t.”

Ben looks at him, then gives a cold laugh. “Of all the times for to you to suddenly grow a backbone.”

Klaus smothers a wince, and steps forward, getting in Ben’s space. “This isn’t the first time someone has asked me to make this choice.”

Ben frowns. “What are you talking about?”

“The Horror,” Klaus says, “gave me the same choice. It would devour my family, or I would lose you forever. You might recall, I chose option three.”

Ben stares at him, saying nothing.

“I’d forgotten why I did it,” Klaus says. “The reason got lost somewhere in the pain and blood, and I began to regret my actions, blame you for a decision I made.”

Ben gives a sharp inhale of breath, presumably out of shock more than any need to breathe.

“But I remember now, and no one can convince me I’m wrong. Not even you.” He smiles, putting his hand on Ben’s arm. “I’ll tell them. I’ll tell them everything. Make them understand that I was the one who made the deal, that you had no choice in the matter. I’ll absolve you in their eyes. I’ll do anything for you. But I won’t choose either of you over the other.”

Ben opens his mouth, and then closes it. He looks up at the sky like he’s searching for answers. When he looks back at Klaus, his eyes are heavy with emotion, and Klaus imagines he would probably be crying right now, if he could.

“I’m not who I was,” Ben says, brokenly.

Klaus gives him a watery smile. “Me neither,” he says. “But that’s okay.”

He finally gives in to what he’s been wanting to do since he got down here. He pulls Ben in, wrapping him in a tight hug. Ben holds him just as tightly back, pressing his face into Klaus’s shoulder.

They stay like that for what seems a small eternity. Klaus pulls his head back, ready to make some teasing quip, to lighten the tension. They are both glowing blue. Klaus recognises that energy.

He pushes on Ben’s shoulders but Ben keeps a tight grip. “Ben, no!”

It’s too late.

Ben pulls them from this realm, and into the unknown.

* * *

_There is darkness, endless and eternal._

_And then there is Ben._

_Klaus knows without opening his eyes because he can suddenly feel again, after so long of nothingness. Sensation prickles like pins and needles and he moans, trying to pull away from it, but his body won’t cooperate._

_He opens his eyes, half expecting to see that creature, the last thing he saw before the darkness. But there is only Ben. And everything he brings with him. The memories come flooding back, the phantom ache of unspeakable pain._

_“No. Why?”_

_Ben is here to bring him back, and Klaus fights against that the best he can. But Ben reminds him: he made a deal._

_Ben says it with certainty, and Ben doesn’t lie to him, so it must be true. Klaus had made lots of deals in his life, mostly attempts to wriggle out of an unpleasant situation. Promises he can’t keep, and promises he is made to keep. Debts that are taken from his body, in blood and sex and pain. Bargains that haunt him to this day._

_It’s funny, the way Ben says it. “You made a deal.” Because that sounds like Klaus had a choice in the matter. Like Klaus hasn’t always been entirely a victim of circumstance. Agency is not a concept he’s familiar with, not something he’s ever had to worry about. There was always something or someone to make his decisions for him._

_So when Ben says they must go, he goes. He takes them back to the realm of the living._

_Pain sears through Klaus’s body as it begins to knit itself back together, undo the damage that the Horror has done._

_He screams._

_The cycle begins again._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> This story has gone through a lot of drafts. I have thousands of words saved in a separate file that I deleted from here, that would have changed the tone and theme completely. Did I make the right decision? Who knows? Let's put it this way: this instalment is a bit more of a reprieve for our boys than it originally started out as.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, please give a weary writer a kudos or a comment, it is very much appreciated <3


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